Generation Past
by Gentle Breezes
Summary: A woman from Tipa reflects on what the world is like without miasma, and how while everyone has gained freedom, they have also lost the art of caravanning forever. Takes place a little after the first Crystal Chronicles game.


**Disclaimer: **Final Fantasy - Crystal Chronicles belongs to The Game Designers Studio/Square Enix.

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><p>My generation was the last to produce caravaners.<p>

My husband was a caravaner and so was I, just like our parents, and grandparents, and great-grandparents before us.

My son was the last in our family to become a caravaner. I can still remember his face on the day he set out with the caravan for the first time. He had grinned as if nothing in the world could knock him down, clutching his father's old sword and swearing to us that he would bring back three drops of myrrh before half the year had gone by. If I hadn't been a former caravaner, I would have been sick out of my mind with worry at such incredible confidence. I _was_ worried. But not enough to dash all his hopes with lectures on being careful. Caravanning is not like that. One should always use one's head, because the lives of the villagers and your comrades ride on your shoulders. But a caravan is also for seeing the world; for running wild through the trees and smelling the scent of wind that rushes down from the mountains, tamed by nothing and no one while you wander. It is for exploring and getting cuts and bruises and learning through experience which monsters should be attacked and which should be left for next year. And it is for a heart full of memories, and a chronicle brimming with stories. One cannot afford to be scared past the point of action on such an exquisite journey.

It is actually a sad thought, knowing that people will no longer travel the world like they used to. I do not wish for the miasma to come back into the world, and I never will. But the world was once more appreciated, more cherished, its sights like a precious treasure because of the hard journey endured to get there. Now people explore freely, which is wonderful, but they also explore without pausing to be thankful for such creation. Or maybe for just being alive to see it. The attitude in travelers has changed everywhere, especially in Tipa. The River Belle Patch, once a quiet sanctuary, is now a place frequented by tourists. The Goblin Wall is one of the largest trading posts on this side of the continent, and in a few years it may be the largest in the world. The Mines of Cathuriges are being explored by archeologists from all over the world, ambling around its halls without a single worry. I must admit, however, that I appreciate their exploration more than that of the average civilian. Archeologists are careful with what they find, respecting the past and the ground that was trod upon by those before them.

The only place left largely untouched in the Tipa Peninsula is the Mushroom Forest. There are still more than a few monsters there, and sometimes older caravaners go there in groups to reminisce. But few go deep into such a place. Only the ones who recently caravanned, or those who have the memories branded deeply in their hearts, dare to make such a journey.

I watch my daughter, who is six years old, play with her friends and toys each day, and I am happy that she no longer has to face a world with miasma. But I am also reminded with heavy thoughts that she will be the only one in our family who never caravanned. She will never get to see the myrrh trees in full bloom. She will never be interested in building her own swords and shields. She will never camp with other caravaners, and fortifying her friends for battles. She will never drink in the splendor a world you still had to fight for; a world still free of the reigns of mortals. I wonder if it will ever break her heart to know this, just as it breaks mine?

These are, perhaps, strange thoughts, even foolish ones, for a person who has fought almost all their life to free the world of miasma. But there are two sides to every coin, and in this coin I am on the tails side; the side that is behind and left behind, existing in a times that will one day become nothing but legends...

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><p><strong>AN: **This was done from the perspective of a woman who caravanned from the village of Tipa in her younger days, but was not the hero who brought the end to the miasma.

I absolutely LOVED the first Crystal Chronicles game when I played it, and wrote several things for it before I knew this site existed. Now that I've had an accounted here for a while, I think I might start salvaging what I've written and see if it's good enough to post! Lots of work ahead if I choose to do this, not gonna lie. You know how it is with old pieces you wrote a few years ago.

I did this piece as a flip-side look at the end of the world-wide miasma problem. When I beat the game I was all "Yes! Everybody's free!" But what about what no longer mattered when the miasma disappeared? Caravanning would become obsolete in a world free of miasma, so no one would get to fill their chronicles with adventures anymore. Or at least not that many adventures. Made me a little sad. Hahaha! Anyway, I thought it would be interesting to look at the "other side of the argument".

Thank you for reading! Touch-ups will be made when needed.


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